


Glory and Gore

by DeadPens



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Multi, Organized Crime, everyone is still fantasy races but there is guns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadPens/pseuds/DeadPens
Summary: The Mighty Nein is a street gang and they go on heists, grow closer as friends, take more dangerous jobs, attract more attention than they probably should and hopefully they survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea rattling around in my head for a while and decided to just committing and posting it, will try and regularly update.  
> Thanks so much for reading!

“This has to be the worst my plan has ever gone,” Fjord muttered, feeling the cold press of the expensive wooden desk against his back; he was speaking mostly to himself but Jester was close enough to hear. She’s been laughing to herself since Beau wasn’t able to open the safe door about five minutes earlier.  
“Aww Nooo Fjord I thought it was kinda fun!” Her strange mixture of Eastern European and valley girl accent thick and loud even through the rain of gunfire. Her outfit and hair had remained perfect through all this, the top of her ski mask only covered in the lightest powdering of dust which was impressive considering the circumstances.  
“Yes, because dodging bullets isn’t my idea of a good Saturday night,” Fjord said, hearing a bullet ricochet off the edge of a desk. He was just thankful it wasn't the side of his head.  
“Yeah. You’re in the wrong profession then,” said the perpetually calm and melancholic voice of Caleb through Fjord’s earpiece. Caleb was their tech-guy, currently stationed on the roof a block away with whatever he needed; he wasn’t one for an up-close fight especially around guns, which Fjord didn’t exactly blame him for.  
They had stumbled upon him and Nott (a small goblin with a severe drinking problem and almost worse sticky fingers) injured, exhausted, and recent escapees from jail Desperate, the three of them had needed just as much help, just barely escaping from their first failed heist. The two of them had more than proved their worth, but Fjord doesn’t trust them as far as he can throw them.  
But: Caleb is extremely good at what he does, and Fjord could tell he's been in this game for a while. He doesn't talk about it, although he has a haunted look. Those eyes were almost always trained on a monitor anyways, and Fjord doesn't like prying too much into people's personal lives - it's not good for business, particularly so in this specific business.  
“Please stop flirting and help me rip this door off! Jester!” Beau yelled at them. Beau had two moods, that of angry and sleeping. Even her happiest tone had an edge of defensive anger to it. It made her instincts sharper and she’s gotten Fjord out of more than a few tight spots, so he can't complain too much.  
As Fjord finished reloading his gun with a sickly satisfying click, he levered himself over the counter of the art museum they were currently robbing. This office used to be nice, they had wanted to make sure to leave it nice, with its sleek furniture and wooden fixtures. But that plan went out the fucking window when four strangers had burst into the door while they were working on the safe and started to shoot at them.  
The men shooting at them weren’t obviously cops, no uniforms and non-standard guns. Besides, Fjord had got word from a couple of his cop “friends” that there wouldn’t be anyone patrolling around here at least for another twenty minutes. That means it must be a rival group, and they must have money to afford gadgets like that, which makes Fjord nervous.  
The five of them haven’t been at this long at all, no gang would take Fjord, Jester and Beau in, despite their skills. So they had to make do on their own. It had taken Fjord longer than he would like to learn the jargon, the major players in the area, who to take work from and who not to, and most importantly who’s shooting at you.  
Beau knew. But she’s a little preoccupied, her hair falling out in strands from the bun on the top of her head.  
“Who are these guys anyway?!” Fjord shouted, trying not to feel good about seeing a bullet finally land into the shoulder of one of his enemies. No one responded.  
He heard the metal-on-stone noise of hinges being ripped off and hitting marble tiles as Jester dropped the metal door of the safe a few feet away, where it hit the ground it cracked a spiderweb through the tiles.  
Beau cheered and they hustled into the safe.  
“Please hurry it up!” Fjord said, with a badly concealed edge of desperate.  
“Yeah, well, where’s our van?!” Beau shouted back. There were only three guys between them and the door, but that’d be foolhardy, there was a long stretch of art galleries and hallways to get through and they don’t know if they have backup or not. The gang was already down one, and Fjord was confident that they could outfight them, but Beau had lost her gun and he didn’t want to risk it, it only took one shot. He wasn't ready to lose one of them.  
“Hold on. Got chased around by some of these assholes outside.” An overly-relaxed voice came through the headset, and Fjord would usually roll his eyes - but it was a relief in the moment to hear the overly tattooed tiefling.  
“Everything okay for us to leave, Molly?”  
“Yep! Yasha’s got shot, but she’s taken it like a champ,” Molly said, and Fjord could hear a tone of concern buried under his usual bravado.  
Jester gasped, putting both her hands over her mouth. “Ohhhh no Yasha! Don’t worry I’ll be there soon I left a medpack in the car, I’ll fix you right up!”  
“I’m fine, uhm, just a shot in the arm,” came the calm, clipped tone of Yasha, but again she could have been shot in the heart and Fjord is pretty sure she wouldn’t flinch.  
Fjord went to shoot at one of the men, an extremely large Viking looking motherfucker with a braided mohawk and beard, but then the action of his gun snapped back and Fjord swore, swinging back down under the desk to reload.  
Fjord turned back around to face the two, to ask them if they had the art just yet, but he was cut off from a shot through the wooden desk he was leaning back up against, not even two inches from the left side of his face. A ringing went through his ears.  
“Fuck” he gasped as the rest of the world faded into the ringing. Fjord hesitantly hit the side of his head with the open palm of his hand a few times, hoping it would settle the noise. It didn’t.  
Jester was suddenly in front of him, her open blue eyes searching his worriedly. Beau was behind her, crouched down in front of them and snagging Fjord’s gun and taking desperate pot shots. She was speaking into the com, but Fjord couldn’t hear.  
That’s when Fjord was sure an explosion went off, the force of something sent him thrown forwards as he felt Jester twist her body to protect Fjord from the wooden shrapnel raining down onto them. He watched Beau stumble back and when he turned around he saw the grey unmarked van that was going to be their escape route halfway in the room. It had driven clear through the wall of this office.  
Molly threw the door of the van open with a band and an AK-47, the room flooding with rapid sparks of light as he began firing, shell casings scattering.

and Yasha was in the driver’s seat gesturing them over.

Jester didn’t ask permission or wait to be told again as she hoisted Fjord’s arm over her shoulder and he decided not to argue, leaning his weight on her as they limped into the van.   
Jester basically threw Fjord into the truck. Beau snatched up Jester’s forgotten bag with the stolen goods as she rolled into the van quick-like before them.  
If the cops weren’t patrolling the area yet they sure as fuck would be now. Beau was screaming at the top of her lungs, and landing in the side passenger seat Fjord didn’t need his full hearing to know that.  
Molly was enjoying himself too much-providing cover fire, and Fjord was almost glad for the current ringing in his head so he didn't have to hear cacophony.   
As he sat there, sound started to come back, the ringing lessening.   
Leaning over, his throat dry and scratchy, he said to Yasha "What are we waiting for?!" as a stray bullet found its way into the van. They had to go quickly, the van was cheap and shitty and it's a miracle they aren’t all perforated.  
Yasha turned in her seat to face Fjord and say something, her braid's whipping Beau in the face, but everyone turned and stopped when they heard a noise coming from the main room.  
Through the open door of the van over Molly's shoulder he heard the scream of one of the men, a shout about backup into a walkie-talkie when his sentence was cut short by a horrible gurgling noise. One that Fjord was getting used to in the recent months, and he could identify the sound of someone getting their throat slit.  
From what he could see - and relief flooded his overwhelmed system - the perpetrator was Nott. She had come in behind as backup, but that also meant they were in a lot of trouble if she left Caleb to come help them.  
She launched herself onto the next guy like a facehugger with two black daggers raised above her head as she sliced down and Molly took the guy next to him down with a series of shots and a lot of demonic yelling. Nott's head snapped towards Molly as a bullet narrowly missed her and she jumped off the man, leaving behind a bloody body and she scampered into the truck, yelling:  
“THEY HAVE BACKUP THEY’RE BRINGING MORE, WE GOTTA GO GO GO!”  
At these words, Jester wrapped her arms around Molly’s middle and tugging him back into the van. Molly didn't resist this, if anything it made him laugh more.   
He used his tail to close the door and they both landed in one tiefling pile on the hard textured floor of the back of the van.  
Yasha had barely waited for them all to close the door before she reversed, the mechanisms of the van and its occupants wailing in protest as they were sent rocketing against one side of the truck as she pulled away from the building she just crashed. There was the distinct bump of the carefully maintained garden on the nice lawns of the art museum she had to drive across to get in, and she followed the same furrows out to get back onto the main road.  
Beau, always surprisingly nimble, threw herself into the passenger seat and buckled herself in, flipping Molly off at his protests, "SHOTGUN IS MINE! I CALLED IT!!".  
This brief amusement was followed by the call of sirens. Fjord knew that The Gentleman must have paid them off for this job and just not told them, no way does it take cops ten minutes into a shootout in the nicest part of town for them to show up.  
Fjord looked up at Yasha the best he could being thrown around at her crazy driving as she swerved to get back on the road fully and not the sidewalk.Her face was unbothered, unchanged, focused on the problem in front of her and nothing else but he could see where she had ripped off the sleeve of her shirt to tie it around her upper bicep.The dark color of the fabric made it difficult to tell the quantity of blood, but it was still worrisome.   
Caleb had his own getaway route that Nott was supposed to help him with, and he was smart, the smartest out of all of them. He’d be fine on his own, they’d meet back up at the hideout. Fjord told himself this repeatedly, trying hard not to be concerned but falling short.  
Jester ripped the ski mask off, undoing the braids to hold her short hair up that Yasha had done for her in the few hours before this heist to keep it in the ski mask, to avoid DNA evidence.  
She shook her hair out and Fjord found himself staring a little before quickly looking away before he was caught.  
Molly was laying on his back now despite the bumpy ride and Fjord nudged him with his black leather boot taking his own mask off, “Thanks for the quick thinking.”   
Molly simply held up a thumbs up, “It’s fine, need you assholes alive anyways to get paid.”  
“Aw, Molly, if I didn’t know better I’d think you’re takin’ a shinin’ to us now.”  
“Well, thank god you know better.” Fjord couldn’t ever place Molly’s accent. Irish? Scottish? But it didn’t really matter, Molly always acted with everything he does anyway. And it doesn't do good to pry into people's lives much anyways. Though that really doesn't stop some people (Beau) usually.  
Yasha grunted, drawing his attention away from the purple tiefling, to Jester who had perched herself on Beau’s seat(**on beau’s lap??), trying to poke and prod at Yasha’s wound, seeing if the bullet was still in there, ‘does it hurt? Did you get it in a really cool scene where you like pushed Molly like out of the way of a bullet or something?’ And about a million other questions Jester rattled off to Yasha, but gods bless her heart just waited patiently for her to finish to start answering her.  
“I’ll let you check it when we get back to the hideout," she simply said, giving Jester a reassuring look.  
The sirens behind them were getting quieter and quieter the further they drove. They must of not have seen the van or be focused on the carnage at the museum instead.  
Yasha turned to Beau. “We are going to have to trash this van immediately. It won’t take them long to check the tapes.”  
Beau groaned, punching the roof, “Damn. It’s such a waste”  
“Barely a waste. This thing is a piece of shit,” Molly added helpfully.  
Fjord looked at Nott, balled up in the back, pure anxiety shadowed over her face.  
“Don’t worry Nott, he’ll be fine,” Fjord said, trying to be reassuring. Jester was better at this than him but she was preoccupied.  
Nott nodded, not saying anything. Jester, thank Gods, took over instead.  
“Oh Nott you, know how smart your baby Caleb is! He should be calling us soon to tell us how good he is at escaping.”  
Nott smiled a little at Jester, as no one can resist her charm, and nodded, “Yeah you’re right. He’s so smart,” before walking over to stand next to Jester, but she stopped to shoot a smile at Fjord.  
Fjord looked at the back of Beau’s head from where he was sitting “Did you get a good look at who those assholes were anyways?” he leaned over to ask.   
Beau shook her head not looking at him “No, I wasn’t really focused on the account of getting shot at. But they weren’t cheap they were good shots - we’re lucky to have gotten out as we did”  
Fjord nodded agreement, and was about to reply before Yasha took a sudden sharp turn sending him flying to the left side of the van and tripping over Molly, who practically hissed.  
“Sorry,” Yasha muttered, pulling into a shady half-finished construction site.  
Already waiting for them, clammy as ever, was The Gentleman, leaning back against an ocean blue sports car, probably with some name that Fjord will never be able to own himself. His black hair was slicked back and he was wearing a very nice fitted clean suit in combination with a lot of jewelry. Fjord had to guess he was at some big shindig or event and just stepped out to make sure the job he asked of them got completed.  
Fjord already had it in his head to stop Beau from talking too much. Despite knowing so much about the underground of this city, she tended to rub people the wrong way, and could be a little abrasive to say it nicely. Jester grabbed the duffel bags from the back with the rolled up pieces in them, everyone slowly and painfully clambering out of the demolished van. Molly rubbed the spot on his tail where Fjord had tripped over.  
“Damn, what the fuck happened to you?” A hint of laughter still in his voice. The Gentleman did a quick sweeping assessment with his eyes.  
Beau threw her bag at his feet, “Why don’t you tell us that? Who’s after you that you didn’t warn us about, about five buff as fuck but unmarked dudes burst the fuck in and started shooting at us.”  
The Gentleman stopped leaning against the hood of his car and instead stood at full alert, arms still crossed “Well, my dear Mighty Nein, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” in the tone of a man forcing himself to speak levelly.  
“Who were they? Do you know?” Yasha asked, keeping a hand on Beau’s shoulder to steady her.  
“I, uh, have an inkling at least. I’ll contact you guys soon. It’s not safe to be out in the open like this.” He said, smooth as ever, which weirdly calmed Fjord, that means this isn’t anything new.  
He gently took the paintings from Jester who smiled at him and asked: “Is there a ‘we got shot bonus’ in these heists?” As she handed him the bags, he wasted no time in handing them off to one of the lackeys who flanked him on both sides.  
The Gentleman simply laughed at her. “I’m sure we can see if we can work something out. The money is already deposited into your accounts. I’ll be in contact with you guys for the next job soon-”  
“You never answered us. I mean I don’t care or anything but it’s good to know who did just try and murder you” Beau said stepping out of Yasha’s grip.  
The Gentleman leveled his eyes at Beau becoming even more shark-like in an instance, "If I knew I would tell you sweet Beau but I do not, therefore, I contact you guys as soon as I can just lay low." He said in a tone with no room for argument before turning his back on the rag-tag roughed up group and getting into his car.   
Yasha sighed, crossing her arms across her chest jerking her head towards the car, "Come on guys we have to go meet Caleb now"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mighty Nein recuperates

Beau muttered to herself “This is bullshit, absolute crap” kicking at the dirt and rocks around her causing small little puffs of smoke around her sneakers.  
Fjord watched out of the corner of his eye as Yasha gripped her shoulder again, trying her best to be comforting he imagined and steering her towards the open door of the van.  
The car ride back was shockingly silent the bruises and hurt settling into their skin and their bones, they pulled into their “headquarters” which was nothing more than a gutted out old shipping center warehouse that Fjord had bought with the money he had received from his first heist, which went a lot less smooth than this one did, surprisingly.  
Molly barely had the door open before Nott was out, beelining her way into the hideout yelling "Caleb! Caleb!"  
Caleb was standing there, when Fjord walked in kneeling to Nott’s height, reassuring his watery-eyed friend, Caleb rose to his full height as the rest of the group walked in. He seemed the same as when they parted ways, clean but messy hair flipped every which way, and the same many pocket coat 3 sizes too big that hung off his figure, Fjord did a quick assessment of him, no bullet holes, no blood, no more panic or frayed edges than Caleb normally had.  
Fjord gave Caleb a curt nod when they caught eyes, he was tired and everything kind of hurt and he didn’t feel like talking much.  
Jester never seemed to have that problem though, and leaped up quickly to hug Caleb “Caleb! You’re alive! Good job!” Ignoring Yasha’s bullet wound and the other members she had to tend to.  
“I try,” the quiet boy said sheepishly giving her a smile.  
Molly put a hand on Jester’s shoulder, “As happy as I always am to see Caleb, we should probably take care of the others.” Steering Jester back around giving Caleb a wink and it just took that for the tech wizard to turn bright red.  
Beau was at Fjord side without any notice, silently moving as always, fucking creepy maybe he should put bells on her.  
“You should get your head thing checked out,” Beau said gesturing to her ear in reference to his own.  
“You know actually tried that whole therapy thing once didn’t quite work much out for me,” Fjord said giving her a boyish, lopsided grin trying not to make anyone worried.  
Beau rolled her eyes at this though knowing exactly what he was doing. “I showed concern for half a second so I’m done” she scoffed at him before marching off somewhere probably to take a nap or drink herself to sleep.  
Both of which sounded pretty good to Fjord right about now.  
Caleb quickly filled up the spot that she left and peered at him, “Sorry I couldn’t do more, you guys were in quite the spot” he said quietly looking at Fjord guilty.  
Fjord shook his head, “You did your job and you did it well that’s more than enough” he said trying to get over the events.  
He turned his head and looked at the whiteboard in the corner of the room it was covered in a map Caleb had stolen for them of the layout of the museum and had a bunch of sticky notes covering it.  
Some were in simple black ink, his notes to the team as they had worked out the plan of the heist beforehand, but a few scattered in there were with blue glitter gel pen, Jester’s of course, and were mostly drawings of dicks or a cartoon version of Yasha bench pressing Beau, there were a few motivational and sarcastic words from Molly thrown in for good measure as well in purple sparkly pen that he no doubt got from Jester.  
They both had to just customize everything they touched Fjord scoffed.  
Caleb was still there looking at him, looking sad and apologetic.  
Caleb was getting used to being a team player and it had caused some tension a few times, Fjord didn’t know his past or how he got into this life and he didn’t really ask, but Caleb liked long apologies, Fjord liked that usually everything spelt out and he didn’t want bad blood between him and any of the group but he wasn't in the mood right now and instead Fjord just grabbed Caleb's shoulder and nodded and walked away from the group, hopefully, to go catch some shut-eye.  
\---  
Yasha sat unmoving despite Jester having to put in a few stitches, she didn’t even flinch, she's scary.  
Jester was being uncharacteristically quiet and focused her short hair pulled back best she could from her face and her tongue was sticking out as she squinted and sewed Yasha’s skin back together after digging the bullet out.  
Beau was sitting on the couch across from her, she leaned over to hand her a bottle of whiskey that she had been drinking straight out of not even a minute ago.  
Yasha stared at it for a minute, then careful not to jostle the shoulder Jester was working on took it from her with a whispered “Thank you” and took a deep swig, Beau pretended not to be staring.  
Molly walked back into the room, hair dripping from a shower he just took and gave Yasha a lopsided grin and threw himself onto the couch next to Beau, snatching the whiskey bottle out of her hand and taking a long deep drink ignoring Beau’s yells and protests.  
He shoved it back into her arms, “I just saved your lives don’t be ungrateful”  
“Yasha saved our lives, she drove” Beau retaliated immediately.  
“I helped!” Jester intervened  
Yasha had the ghost of a smile grace her features and simply said “We all worked hard and did it together” and that somehow ended the argument.  
This team was new, still fresh and worked extremely intricately and delicately like the tiny parts of one big moving machine.  
Fjord had already scattered off despite everyone worrying about his head trauma, usually, he’d be here laughing and arguing with the rest of them.  
Caleb and Nott on the other hand, never really hang out with them but they were both currently placed on the floor by the coffee table. Nott was taking occasional swigs of her flask that she always had on her and Caleb just sat silently a small smile on his face.  
Molly clapped his hands together, “I feel good! I feel great actually”  
“You didn’t get shot” Yasha replied as Jester finished up stitching her up,  
“Okay, Yasha! You’re all better”  
“Thank you, Jester, I appreciate it,” Yasha said sitting up straighter and experimentally moving her shoulder in a circle.  
They talked, and laughed and drank for the rest of the night until the sun started streaming in, feeling the adrenaline and the feeling of a job well done set deep into their bones.


End file.
